


guest of honor

by BabaTunji, Galaxiaa7



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Cousin Incest, Exhibitionism, Group Sex, King Killmonger, M/M, Orgy, Recreational Drug Use, Top Erik Killmonger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabaTunji/pseuds/BabaTunji, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxiaa7/pseuds/Galaxiaa7
Summary: N'Jadaka's birthday is approaching. He wants to do something special. With T'Challa as the guest of honor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote most of this last year, converted from rp. Fully written broke into 2 parts. Spoilers at the end for anyone who wants specifics for the orgy. 
> 
> Playlist for the fic  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/31s3xwxldnxazbvj5cb5tudfuhyq/playlist/7HrunrYrykb2Qhj5C1E1c9?si=W3-G5-zkTs2lOVOLmnJL4g

The minister is nervous. T'Challa is ignoring it for now, but he makes a note for later. This visit has been planned for months but the exact timing is a surprise, for the purpose of getting a better view of the country being managed. The satellite state had a history of corruption. Visits like T'Challa's served the purpose of dealing with such issues as well as doing more administrative work with the populace. Gauging their welfare and advising the local and state committees.

When he checks his kimoyo beads later that day he has a new message from N’Jadaka. He ignores it in lieu of the one from his mother. He would be arriving back home in a few hours time, they could talk then. His mother's message is surprisingly not about the usual business or even her or Shuri. It's about N’Jadaka.

Who apparently had some of Wakanda's elite in a frenzy. As T'Challa reads, he pulls up a recent newsfeed. He's only been gone for a week. What had happened in that time? He's greeted with pictures and short videos of N’Jadaka out and about with several different men and women. All from prominent families and all very attractive. T'Challa takes several moments to process the heavy speculation-and the borderline slanderous nature of some of the comments and opinions on N’Jadaka's interactions- then he pulls up a calendar.

His husband's birthday was in less than 2 weeks. T'Challa finishes reading his mother's message and sets about responding to her cautious but well meaning probing.

_N’Jadaka has not spoken to me about looking for a second spouse, but I do know what this is about. I will come by for tea once I am home to explain._

His mother’s response is terse and T'Challa sighs. The first few years of his and N’Jadaka's marriage had been very rocky. He understood her distrust, but for once it is unwarranted. N’Jadaka is just being N’Jadaka. He scrolls again through the pictures of his husband and other assorted people. They were all attractive in different ways. His cousin wants a wide variety of people attending his "party".

T'Challa has yet to decide if he would be present. But now he is beginning to realize he just might have to be. Especially if people were worried about N’Jadaka taking a second spouse. His mother isn't wrong to be suspicious of some of the less distinguished clans taking the opportunity to grasp at consortship. T'Challa isn't worried.

There were things he and N’Jadaka argued about, things that they disagreed on, but T'Challa does not doubt N’Jadaka's devotion to him. Even with the plans he had for this '’party’’.  
The two of them have played before with others. What N’Jadaka wanted this time for his birthday was different. T'Challa didn't even like thinking about it. It is so—T'Challa refocuses on the papers in front of him. He would deal with N’Jadaka's whims later.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully, and he makes to leave the country at the appointed time. He goes through the niceties of saying goodbye to the elected officials and spends more time talking with the regular citizens who had come to see him off.

The whole affair makes him exhausted but it is necessary. Humbling really, to see how much Wakanda's involvement means to the people within the satellite state. How much they have helped empower citizens to better themselves and their own communities. He takes a few more pictures with different citizens and answers the occasional question about himself or his family. Then it is over and he's on a talon fighter heading back to Wakanda.

*****

He arrives to a smaller procession of Dora Milaje and his mother. N’Jadaka is not present, for which T'Challa is grateful. His mother does not look amused. He follows her after trading pleasantries and a strong hug, to her wing of the palace.

Over tea and evening snacks he listens to her relate the events of the past week.

She had apparently received several messages from enterprising wakandans who seemed to take N’Jadaka's new interest in their daughters/sons, niblings as some initial prelude to marriage negotiations. The respectful ones had inquired as to T'Challa. The rest had infuriated his mother by implying that their candidate for marriage was in anyway better or more favored than T'Challa.

Some of the names she lists do not surprise T'Challa. Some do. He sighs, once she is done speaking. All of this was being blown out of proportion thanks to his husband’s lack of discretion and the enterprising nature of Wakanda's own elite.

"N'Jadaka is not interested in a second spouse. The reason he has been seen with all these different people, is not what you all think." Ramonda's eyebrows raise in question, but she allows T'Challa to continue.

"He had the opportunity to take on other spouses when we were barely speaking to each other. He's certainly been with others in the past. That is not the case here."

"So what is this about, T'Challa? I do not like fielding questions from people who think their son or daughter is fit to be a consort." Ramonda sounds irritated, but also upset on his behalf. Even If T'Challa isn't King he was still Panther Tribe by birth. She took pride in him and his relationship, particularly with N’Jadaka. Considering how they had started.

"N'Jadaka wants to have a party, for his birthday and he wants certain people to be there. The nature of the party is why he's suddenly paying attention to so-and-so's niece or cousin. We've spoken about it and I don't mind. No marriage or talk of marriage will result from the party, merely an enjoyable time for N’Jadaka."

Ramonda still looks confused so T'Challa explains more, feeling more than a little embarrassed. "He wants to have a sex party. He would like for the participants to watch or join in. Hence the people he has been seen with."

Ramonda's expression changes and T'Challa looks away. He didn't want his mother knowing about what he or his husband did in bed but since N’Jadaka had not been discrete...

"Will you be present for this '’party’'? The way she says ‘’party’’ makes T'Challa snort.

"No. This was N’Jadaka's idea."

"You support his appetite?" The way she says it makes T'Challa look back at her.

"I see no harm in it. I'm sure everyone participating is excited to be included." Too excited if you asked T'Challa. He had seen some of the pictures, there had been too much familiarity implied in some instances.

"You still share quarters." Ramonda's tone is contemplative and T'Challa shrugs.

"We've been married for four years now. If he wants to experience new things that’s up to him." Really T'Challa wasn’t sure what she was getting at. They were intimate frequently, T'Challa wasn't worried about some sex party.

"Perhaps you should join him? The message being sent if you are absent is not... the best."  
Ramonda is trying to be diplomatic but it fails -- T'Challa immediately thinks of the worst.

"What message is that?" He could guess but he wants his mother to spell it out. Really who would have thought a simple birthday idea would set so many tongues waggling.

Ramonda sighs then lays it out. "You are a good 6 years N'Jadaka's senior. It hasn't seemed to matter to either of you because he is quite taken with you and vice versa. However others have noticed. They expect him to have extramarital affairs and to have an eye out on someone younger or new."

T'Challa is quiet in the face of her blunt observations.

"Add to the fact that neither of you have children, a second spouse might be seen as the natural solution. "

This conversation is familiar at least. Talk of children has been following both of them for awhile. It's something T'Challa acknowledges but is still not quite ready for.

"So, I should be present for this party? To show that we have no intentions of... taking a second spouse? Or to reassure Wakanda's own busybodies that all is well?"

"Both. If I am being frank. Things like this have the habit of growing legs."

T'Challa thinks about their conversation all the way back to the King's quarters. He didn't think N’Jadaka having fun with some of Wakanda's prettiest elite and sex workers meant anything special. But his mother was rarely wrong in matters like this. He also hadn't expected this kind of public response to N’Jadaka's perceived dalliance.

When he enters the wing, he heads straight for the bath. It wasn't that late and N’Jadaka wouldn't join him for some hours. Before he strips completely he finally reads the message N’Jadaka had sent earlier in the day.

N’Jadaka's message is brief: “Hey, how was your trip? I've got some great news to talk to you about, birthday is coming closer, gonna be wild this year. Text back.”

T'Challa is not texting back, and now he is annoyed that N’Jadaka was so unaware of the trouble he was causing. They would be speaking in person anyway, whenever N’Jadaka came home.

-:-

Erik looks up at his notes and whistles in satisfaction. The number of Wakandans who had agreed to attend were impressive, even accounting for his usual reputation and effect on the young eligible crowd. Some of his invitees hoped to get more out of this event than what he would give. But he wasn't above using the interests of a young River Tribe daughter or a important house for his own enjoyment. This would definitely be the best birthday he's had in years. And especially now that T'Challa would be back in time for it. He wants him there.

All the participants and spectators to his orgy are all well and good, and he'd take full advantage of it; but he'd done orgies before. And if he had to admit, they could get boring, without the right people. And the right person was T'Challa. T’Challa had always turned down his invitations to his sex parties; not being comfortable to share their intimacy with so many members of the population, from reputable houses or not. But this year, Erik wants to show him off; it's the perfect time to do so, he just needs to find a way to convince T'Challa to join him.

He hears from a Dora that T'Challa's talon fighter has landed. He thinks of joining him as soon as his duties are over -- taking a bath together to catch up --; and wrestles in his head ideas about how to approach the orgy to T'Challa. T'Challa didn't mind indulging his most out-there kinks, but this one was particular, even for him.  
  
A few hours later, he can finally free himself for the evening. He goes straight in the direction of their quarters; he'd respond back to some of the invitees later. He has some idea now of how he'd bring T'Challa into his birthday party, but his plan still needed some thinking about. Now, the only thing he wanted was T'Challa's naked body against his. And a good bath.

He walks into their room, the lights are off but for a small corner of the bedroom. T'Challa is reading quietly in the corner, already in his night dress. He gets up to greet him, they meet halfway and Erik leans in for a kiss. T'Challa leans back, he doesn’t look amused. "How big is this, '’party’' you are planning going to be?"  
  
"Not a lot. Enough for a show." He answers vaguely. If T'Challa knew the exact number of attendants, Erik would have even more of a hard time convincing him to come. “Why do you want to know?”  
  
"My mother messaged me this afternoon about it. Apparently some people believe you are seeking a second spouse."  
  
Erik tries to be reassuring, though he can’t help but tease towards the end. "I'm not looking for a new spouse, I don't know what they're on about. Just a regular ol' orgy. People are just talking. Although some of the young attendees might be good spouse material."  
  
"I'm sure they would be." T'Challa doesn’t look happy with his answer. Then he turns as if to go back to the bed.  
  
Erik holds his arm to stop him. Engulfing him in a firm hug, head resting on T'Challa's shoulder. "Hey, don't be like that. You know people like to talk." he presses kisses against T'Challa's neck. "You just came back, I want some time with my husband."  
  
T'Challa is stiff for a few moments, before he returns the hug. "You should go bathe. It's late."  
  
Erik's kisses gets longer - and wetter. "Perfect idea. Come with me."  
  
T'Challa pulls away, though Erik's hold doesn't loosen. "You are the only one that needs a bath. Besides, I would much rather you join me in bed."  
  
Erik's hands get more adventurous. "Hm tempting. But I stink, don't you want me clean before getting all hot with me? Why don't you wash me? Then we finish the night in bed."  
  
T'Challa takes one of Erik's roaming hands in his. "I'm in the mood for something else tonight. Indulge me, N'Jadaka." His voice is lower now and his nails are or so casually digging into Erik's hand. "We haven't played in a while."  
  
Erik hums curiously, inviting T'Challa to tell him more.  
  
"We could work on your control perhaps? In preparation for your party." T'Challa is definitely teasing him now.  
  
Erik grinds against T'Challa's ass, humming again - this time in approval. "You got my attention".

"Bath first." T'Challa's voice is stern now and he's still holding one of Erik's hands.  
  
Erik takes a breath, "bath first". He lets go of T'Challa and goes in the direction of the bathroom, but before going too far away from him, he runs back to grab T'Challa's wrist. Pulling T’Challa with him towards the bathroom.  
  
T'Challa lets out an undignified sound, and Erik can feel him trying to pull away.  
  
Erik pulls harder, taking T'Challa's arm under his, bringing him into a side hug. "I'll be quick, and we can start this great idea of yours in the shower."

"Somehow I don't believe you." T'Challa sounds resigned. Then he leans closer to kiss him.  
  
Erik responds to the kiss with enthusiasm; pushing his tongue in T'Challa's mouth. He holds him tighter, bringing his head even closer to his. Their lips press against each other for long minutes, until Erik lets go, ending it by licking T'Challa's lips. He says, "Hey we could even take out the clamps tonight."

  
****

T'Challa runs the water for the bath while Erik strips. Once naked he sits on the side of the bath and looks up at T'Challa, his hand already on his dick. T'Challa snorts in amusement, he strips in turn before grabbing the body wash shampoo. He doesn’t look at Erik when he gets into the bath.

“Did you convince the River Tribe to agree to the new terms while I was gone?” T’Challa’s voice sounds perfectly innocent but the inquiry harshes Erik’s vibe. The subject being one of his more annoying projects right now.

Erik joins him in the bath before he answers. “No, they’ve been shady as shit too, your mom must helping them I swear.” The last part is speculation but Erik’s still annoyed that they were being so difficult. Especially about something Erik personally didn’t think was worth it. Who cares who fucking managed foreign water purification? It wasn’t like they would be the ones personally overseeing it.

But he isn’t going to let T’Challa distract him, “What’s your mood for tonight?” T’Challa had dug nice and deep into his flesh earlier so if he was feeling sadistic tonight— well Erik would be in for a long night.

T'Challa sits besides him and turns him around to get access to his back; placing the body wash beside them. "Let me clean you first."

Erik isn't deterred, placing one hand behind him on T'Challa’s thigh. T'Challa doesn't push him away, but he’s quiet. "Are you annoyed with me?" Erik asks.

T'Challa’s strokes on his back aren’t gentle. "Not at you. Just the situation."

Erik doesn’t want to talk feelings right now, but T’Challa seemed to be pretty bothered. “What specifically? I’m not marrying anyone and you know it’s just for fun.”

Seeing the opportunity, he adds, “I want you to join me. Would that make you feel better?”

T’Challa nudges at his arms, and Erik raises them. Being bathed like this was still something he wasn’t used to but it was nice. When T’Challa wasn’t trying to scrub his skin off.

“Must you have this party?” T’Challa’s tone sets off alarms in his head.

"What's bothering you about it so much, 'Challa." He doesn't want to cancel that party, it's taken weeks to prepare, and it was his time to lay off some steam. But he would. If T’Challa wants him to. Maybe If he knows what is making T'Challa so ambivalent about it, he could find a way to fix it.

T'Challa gestures for Erik to get up, so he could wash his lower body. He takes his time on his ass and legs."This is not the kind of gathering that I appreciate, but I should be present, to let everyone know that our marriage is not on the line—and that you're not on the market. This has—made a lot of people talk, attention towards us that could have been avoided. "

Erik reiterates, "I want you with me, I want you to join the party. It would shut 'em up, if you're worried about that. And—” he doesn't want to say that this party’s whole point was to show T’Challa off to his court, in the off chance T'Challa would say yes. “You being there, would make the party so much better, for my birthday."

T'Challa stays silent, washing him; his strokes rough again. Erik adds, "You'll only have to worry about me."

T'Challa gets up and pulls on Erik's shoulder to make him turn. "This is all very unnecessary." T'Challa lazily traces the muscles of Erik’s chest with the washcloth, he sounds less annoyed now. "But I suppose it would be interesting."

Erik smiles and rests his forehead against T'Challa, going for a kiss. T'Challa doesn't let him. Asking once again: "How many people did you say would participate in your party?"

Erik considers how truthful he should be, T'Challa seems more open to the idea than he had been previously, but it wasn't in the bag yet. He goes for closer to the truth this time. "Most of them will only watch. Fifteen, twenty participants maybe?"

T'Challa doesn't react much beyond the changes in his eyes. His response is very neutral. "I will think about it."

Erik doesn't let him get away from the kiss this time. He takes the cloth from T'Challa's hand. "You indulge my freak all the time. But I know who's the freakiest out of us two. Whatever you feel like tonight, it’ll be my allowance for this party."

T'Challa raises an eyebrow, his lips move like he was resisting a smile. Erik takes one of his hand in his."Those nails are tough, you almost hurt me earlier. Reminded me of how mean you can be. We could play the way you like?”

T’Challa looks like he’s thinking about it enough to say yes. If they play the way T'Challa liked the herb would heal most of it, but he wasn’t sure if he’s read T’Challa’s mood right.

T'Challa traces the form of Erik's hips with his hands. "Don't you want to test your endurance before the party?"

"We could do both?" He has some ideas.

"What do you suggest?" He brings Erik closer, their lower body touching.

"You could - pull my hair, torture my nipples while you ride me."

T'Challa lets go of Erik and gets out of the bath. He takes a towel and wraps it around himself.

"I do not think this is enough, for my attendance."

Erik joins T'Challa and hugs him from behind. "Fine you can also break skin."

T'Challa kisses him. "I want access to your back, and your ass."

"If I last long enough, you'll have time to destroy both." Erik is not kidding either.

"I take no responsibility for my actions if you edge me too much." T'Challa looks smug now and Erik fights a groan. Half the fun was driving T’Challa wild. But his dick is definitely on board.

After drying himself off, he goes straight for the bedroom and lays down on the bed. He sees T'Challa reemerge a moment later with something in his hands.

"Nipple clamps? And —" Erik's enthusiasm wanes a little when he sees the other object.  
  
"Paddle." T'Challa finishes for him. "You thought I'd only use my hand?"

Erik almost tells T'Challa to leave the damn paddle in the drawer. But decides against it and grudgingly accepts this addition to T'Challa's arsenal for the night. Having his husband as the guest of honor for his orgy was worth a little more pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orgy didn't happen this chapter. Neither did any porn lmao. Next chapter!
> 
> Notes for Orgy next chapter:  
> T'Challa only interacts with N'Jadaka, N'Jadaka interacts with others.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Night of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check note at end for surprise kink.

Location: Private Venue  
Attending: 44+

The installation for his birthday party is big and appropriately lavish. The long temporary structure erected for the occasion has gold and purple drapes decorating the walls and entrance. In the center of the room, a dozen participants were having sex in varying position and group assortment, on miscellaneous furniture and objects laid on a red cushion-like blanket. On rows of tables along each corner of the installation, spectators were seated, others standing. Some were watching the display while sipping their drink or smoking hookah or other recreational substances.

Erik moves around the crowd, talking with guests and greeting the newcomers, while glancing from time to time at the action in the middle. He already had his fun earlier today with some of the invitees. He wanted to rest and be a good host, while waiting for T'Challa to come. If T’Challa showed up. The room was filling up, nearly all seats taken. The action area had nearly no space left, all furniture used - except for his seat.

He sees Shuri out the corner of his eyes and turns towards her. She seems to be enjoying herself, talking with other guests. He decides to go see how she is doing, watching her first orgy. She greets him with a smile, a glass in hand.

"N'Jadaka, there's a lot more people than I expected." She must have just arrived.

"I Wasn't betting on this number of people myself." He’s kind of proud. This was truly a successful birthday party. Even people he hadn't invited showed up - whether he turned them down or not.  
  
"Are you enjoying yourself?" He points towards the main section of the orgy.

Shuri nods, "I've never attended an orgy before, it’s certainly, educational." The princess seemed more interested in the all female interactions.

Erik points to the two women on a loveseat, "Want to come closer for a better look?"

Shuri looks hesitant and Erik smiles encouragingly, "The point of the party is having front row seats, also it’s hot as hell."

Another guest shows up to talk to Erik and Shuri is saved from answering.

"I'll be right back princess." Erik follows the person to a nearby backless lounge chair.

A few minutes later, Erik falls back on the lounge chair, appreciating newfound attention to his dick. The pressure and wetness feels just right, he was soon to get his fourth orgasm of the evening. He puts a hand lazily on the woman's head and closes his eyes.

-:-

T'Challa is hours late to his husband's orgy. It is entirely intentional. He isn't sure what proper attire is deemed appropriate for an orgy. Or if most of the room would be undressed. He wouldn't be participating but being present isn't all that appealing to him either. Especially knowing some of the people who would be present.

When he walks up to the private venue, he stops by the entrance. Steeling himself, he greets the KingsGuard and enters into the venue. They allow him to enter without even looking at the tasteful invitation card N’Jadaka had sent him hours earlier.

T'Challa is trying to be as nonchalant as he can but he's overwhelmingly aware of just how many people there are, and the eyes that immediately zero-in on him. N’Jadaka had told him 15-20 people would be present. He had been talking about the people settled in the center of the venue. Not the lively crowd of guests milling at the edges of the circle with light snacks or drink in hand.

One of the guests approaches him and T'Challa tries not to cringe. He isn't close to the center of the venue but he could hear just fine what the center's participants were up to. The man, a River Tribe official, greets T'Challa, offering him a glass.

He's yet to see N’Jadaka, but a lot of people have already seen him.

He doesn't see N’Jadaka among the seated guests. And does not want to approach the people engaged at the center of the party. He finds a free seat and tries to ignore the stares his way. He doesn't know what else to do, not looking at anyone in the eye and greeting dismissively the ones who approached him. If N’Jadaka didn't show up within the next ten minutes—

Then he sees him, laying down on a chaise lounge, eyes closed. His hand on - someone's head. He was enjoying this party at least T'Challa could have done without seeing this part. He dithers over approaching them or waiting for his husband to come to him.

He's still debating whether or not to approach N’Jadaka when he realizes who the woman in blue was, sitting not too far from where he is. Shuri. What was she doing here? N’Jadaka hadn't mentioned she would be attending his '’party’’. Now T'Challa feels even more uncomfortable. He doesn't want to be here.

He looks up in time to see N’Jadaka looking straight at him. His husband gives him a lecherous smile, before dismissing the person who had just been sucking his cock. Then he motions to T'Challa.

T'Challa joins N’Jadaka on the carpet, focusing on him and not all the stares. He notices some of the participants stopping what they were doing to look at them. This was embarrassing. N’Jadaka doesn't seem bothered at all, of course. He is fully naked and still hard when he greets him. Kissing T'Challa and taking him into a hug.

"You finally came."

"This is more than fifteen people, N'Jadaka." T'Challa pitches his voice low, hyper aware of the eyes and ears in the room.

N’Jadaka looks around him and shrugs,"Only fifteen or so people are actually participating, everyone else is just here to watch. I never knew so many Wakandans would want to watch a public orgy. Turned out pretty well though. How do you find it so far?"

“It’s loud.” T'Challa is unimpressed, fifteen people participating, more than 30 watching.

N’Jadaka looks amused, "It's not as loud since you came in."

“You invited Shuri.” T’Challa still can’t believe N’Jadaka would. Or that Shuri would come.

"Oh yea, she showed interest in coming, when I talked to her about it. She's having a good time."

When T'Challa's expression doesn't change, N’Jadaka continues, moving his hands along T'Challa's side. "I’m glad you came. You’re my guest of honor."

N’Jadaka moves closer to him, and T'Challa’s gaze goes down, catching sight of N’Jadaka's erection. “How many times today have you—?” It is a quarter past 8 and his husband looks very relaxed.

An attendant passes by with a tray and T’Challa’s eyes linger on the finger foods. There were still too many people watching but he’s slowly getting used to the setting. And N’Jadaka’s lack of clothing in front of all these people.

N’Jadaka takes a piece of the food on the tray."I haven't fucked a lot of people, got busy running things. And looking around is part of the fun." He nudges him to look next to them and points at one couple having sex on a love chair with his chin.

T’Challa swipes the piece of food from N’Jadaka before focusing his attention on the couple. He doesn’t recognize them thankfully but they’re certainly—ardent. The noise around them is louder now.

N’Jadaka places a hand on T'Challa's shoulder. Making slow circles with his thumb. T'Challa glances back and realizes N’Jadaka is lazily stroking himself with his other hand, eyes still on the couple. When N’Jadaka catches him staring, he smiles and says simply, "It's hot."

N’Jadaka is a voyeur. Of course it is titillating to him.

T’Challa is not. He could admire the beauty of the people participating but the actual acts themselves--. It felt too intimate. Even if everyone here was consenting to being watched.

“Call the attendant back, I want another one.” If N’Jadaka just wanted him to watch, he would. T’Challa wouldn’t be staying too long anyway.

N’Jadaka makes a gesture with his hand and an attendant comes back within a minute, a tray full of the same finger food.

N’Jadaka stops touching himself and takes a handful of the food, still looking at the various participants. After he finishes the finger food another attendant passes by and he stops them, asking them something T'Challa can't hear amidst all the noise around them.

Then he asks T'Challa, "Do you want to take a seat ?"

They weren’t in the direct center of the party but it was close enough. T'Challa eyes some of the more secluded areas of the room. He wouldn’t mind watching if less people could see him. “Sure.” He wonders how long until one of the eager participants from before approaches them.

The couch N’Jadaka had sat on a few minutes ago was already taken by three participants with their clothes still on. N’Jadaka leads him to another couch further back. It was round and comfortable, but not the most intimate one - there was a narrow middle separating the two sitting spaces. But the L shape had them be quite close to each other nonetheless, their legs touching.

A few minutes later the same attendant N’Jadaka had stopped comes back with a long pipe. He sets it down between them and starts the fire on the pipe, then hands N’Jadaka the smoking lines.

N’Jadaka nods to him and the attendant leaves. N’Jadaka takes a long draw before handing the other line to T'Challa.

T’Challa hadn’t smoked hookah in awhile. He knew the strands N’Jadaka liked, and how he experimented with newer flavors. It was a good way to relax. He takes the offered pipeline, draws in. Watches N’Jadaka watch him. When he lets the smoke out he feels a little lighter.

“Will you be naked the entire time I’m here?” N’Jadaka is semi-hard now instead of fully hard as he had been before he’d called away his enthusiastic guest.

N’Jadaka stretches out on the couch, one arm lying against T'Challa's back, the other holding his own pipe line. "What's the point of putting on clothes in a place like this? You like the view don't you?"

T'Challa does like the view. He just didn’t like sharing it. “Your guards didn’t check my invitation when I arrived. Did you allow everyone in?” The guards had probably not thought to deny him entrance but there is a startling number of people in attendance. Though the age and attraction was very cultivated. There weren’t a lot of very young faces thankfully.

"Oh nah, of course not. It's a very exclusive night. Only friends of the King."

T'Challa surveys their vicinity, seeing some faces he remembers were mentioned to him as hopeful-future-lover of the King.

"...or friends of friends." N’Jadaka finishes. "You think the King's husband needs an invitation to come to his birthday party? You're a special guest."

His fingers trails on T'Challa's arm and he takes another intake of smoke.

"Don't be so on the defensive, 'Challa. I wasn't looking for anyone specific tonight."

N’Jadaka had wanted him to come. To be present for this spectacle. T’Challa can give him time. He takes another draw, he holds the smoke in, pulls his husband closer. N’Jadaka comes easy enough, his own pipe forgotten to meet T’Challa’s lips in a kiss.

T’Challa pulls away when the smoke starts to burn. N’Jadaka doesn’t, exhaling leisurely. His grin isn’t as irritating as it could be.

"Starting to have fun now?" N'Jadaka places a hand on his hip, the gesture isn't lewd, just light and reassuring. He leans forward to take another draw of T'Challa's pipe. Deliberately slow. He closes his eyes when he exhales.

“Do me.” T’Challa internally cringes after the words leave his mouth but N’Jadaka mercifully doesn’t follow the obvious opening. His husband was better at shotgunning than he was. T’Challa had never been interested until Nakia, and she hadn’t indulged often. N’Jadaka indulged all the time, and his skill in passing the smoke to a partner showed it.

N’Jadaka takes his time though. Pulls T’Challa closer with an arm, when there was already very little space between them. All while taking a very long draw. T’Challa catches the eye of one of their watchers, then N’Jadaka’s lips are on his own and he’s inhaling the offering.

N'Jadaka's hand slides up to his stomach, his smiles is smaller now before he exhales the last remnant of smokes from his lungs. He observes T'Challa do the same then leans down to kiss him. This kiss is much longer. T’Challa’s hands go naturally to cup N’Jadaka’s face. His husband’s hands in turn move to cup his ass.

N'Jadaka is almost over him now, holding him close with the hand behind his back. T'Challa feels the muscles of his chest against his own. N'Jadaka doesn't break the kiss, only takes the opportunity to push his tongue between T'Challa lips when he breaks for air.

His equilibrium is pretty shaky and he lifts a leg to rest it against N'Jadaka. T'Challa is suddenly very aware that N'Jadaka is still naked. His husband's erection poking his inner thigh. Also most of the room is watching them. Including his sister. He pulls away from their kiss.

N'Jadaka doesn't stop, kissing him on the neck. The kisses nearly make T'Challa close his eyes. The soft succion feels good. He gives N'Jadaka more access without meaning to. But now his eyes are focused on the people around them. Some are looking at them with interest. This didn’t feel intimate.

N'Jadaka's hand is under his shirt, grabbing his ass. Pushing it up against him. They're so close now -- T'Challa is nearly sitting in his lap. N'Jadaka's erection slides down, brushing his ass.

"N'Jadaka—" his protest is sharp. His discomfort tells him they should stop, dial it down some. His erection is trapped between their bodies.

“Wanna move somewhere else?” N’Jadaka asks.

T’Challa nods, somewhere more intimate. He’s only half hard now but if N’Jadaka kept touching him—He pulls away first, standing as graceful as he can considering he was obviously aroused now, in front of all these people. He catches a guest’s eye and her gaze moves from his face to his crotch area.

N’Jadaka tugs him forward, his own erection at full mast once more. T’Challa follows, then slows when he realizes they were heading back to the center of the room. He had noticed the elevated seat when he entered but it had been unoccupied.

His husband takes a detour for a kiosk desk and T’Challa formulates the best way to make his exit. He hadn’t attended this party with the intent on fucking his husband in front of everyone and his sister.

T'Challa doesn't know what N’Jadaka had stopped by to fetch, but when N'Jadaka turns back towards him he's somewhat reassured. There's affection in his gaze -which clashes somewhat with his erection and their audience -- and the steady calmness of someone who knew what he was doing.

N'Jadaka gently takes his wrist and turns him around. T'Challa hesitantly follows his husband guiding hands. He should tell N’Jadaka he wasn't going to play along for much longer, but he doesn't. A rope wraps around his wrist, thick and sturdy. His favorite kind. N'Jadaka does a few rounds with it and tugs it, a simple knot. T'Challa watches N'Jadaka attach the other end to his own wrist.

When he's done, N’Jadaka tugs it more strongly forcing T'Challa to take a step closer. N'Jadaka’s other arm traps his in, pulling T'Challa flush against him. He kisses his neck again, then murmurs: “Don’t want you running off too early.”

Still aware of their audience, T’Challa doesn’t react immediately. The ropes feel reassuring. The way they always felt when they used them. He thinks N’Jadaka is trying to make it easy. For him to go along with whatever he had planned for tonight. Beyond his general discomfort, he does feel curious.

“You will have to untie that very soon.” He hadn’t planned to stay for long anyway.

N'Jadaka tugs on the restraint some more, brushing his nose against T'Challa neck and cheek.

"Soon? It's the best part. You're here. With me. It's my birthday."

He pulls T'Challa's tied hand to his lips and kisses it. "You're only here for me. You can let yourself go, I got you." He pulls again on T'Challa's restraint, till they are standing much closer their faces are inches apart. T’Challa acquiesce gracefully, “Lead the way.” N’Jadaka’s whole face breaks into a grin and he leans the final distance for another kiss. T’Challa leans back, “I am not going to fuck you tonight.”

"Don't worry, I remember. I have other plans."

T'Challa doesn't like his tone but follows his lead. The tightening of the rope around his wrist amplifies the buzz he was already feeling from the smoking. The presence of other eyes is still at the back of his mind. If only they could stay quietly snuggled together, watching others. But N'Jadaka wanted this for his birthday.

They arrive at the elevated seat in the middle of the room. Red and bright and with the perfect view of the action. A throne for the birthday King.

There is enough space on the gaudy throne for both of them, but N'Jadaka has T'Challa sit at his feet on a plush cushion. The seating arrangement feels irritatingly appropriate for the night. He was prince consort, N'Jadaka was King. His position at his husband's feet reflects that. It also reflects the nature of their relationship.

T'Challa is still fully clothed while everyone else on the red mat is either half or fully naked. His tied arm rests up on the armrest, holding N'Jadaka's hand. He looks up at him, N'Jadaka is right in his element here, looking satisfied and relaxed. T'Challa smiles faintly.

N'Jadaka is stroking himself again.

A guest approaches them. The woman is thankfully still clothed though her attire leaves very little to the imagination. She addresses N’Jadaka although her gaze skitters nervously over T’Challa.

“My King, may I attend you?”

His husband raises an eyebrow his way and T’Challa tenses. He had been expecting someone to approach them, perhaps pull N’Jadaka’s attention elsewhere but he hadn’t really wanted anyone to. He shrugs and his husband turns back to the woman. Bids her to come closer.

The woman is nervous, but diligent. After exchanging a few words with N'Jadaka she gets on her knees. She puts her small hand at the base of N'Jadaka's penis and after a second hesitation licks it seductively.

N'Jadaka leans back, and lets go of T'Challa's hand. T'Challa wants to look away but another part of him wants to stare at her until she leaves. He tries to focus on some of the couplings around them in the room but the noise drives him to glance back at them every few seconds.

She has him in her mouth - sucking with dedication. T'Challa’s lip quirks when she moans.

Her technique isn’t horrible, but she doesn’t take N’Jadaka’s cock all the way, instead using her hands and tongue in a mostly teasing manner. If he ever gave oral the way she was doing N’Jadaka would riot. But his husband doesn’t seem to be bothered, enjoying the attention.

He stares at N'Jadaka who doesn't even give him a glance back.

She pulls N'Jadaka's cock out of her mouth with an obscene wet sound and licks the saliva trickling down. Her hand stroking - not tight enough, not high enough - the base of his cock.

When she pushes his cock back in her mouth, closing her eyes -T'Challa restrains from sighing in irritation. N'Jadaka twitches and groans. T'Challa knows that groan, it's the It's-good-but-i'm-not-fully-satisfied groan, it's the you're-teasing-but-in-all-the-wrong-ways groan. His smile is only a little smug.

N’Jadaka catches him watching. Says, “This feels good, but I think I’d prefer my husband’s mouth.”

The woman slows and T’Challa’s smugness disappears. Oral was different from actual sex, but this all felt like a slippery slope. Even if a growing part of him wanted to show the correct way to serve his husband.

“Don’t stop.” T’Challa is instructing the woman now.

“Your grip isn’t tight enough.” After a bit of reluctance, she tightens her hold. T’Challa leans closer. Bidding her to continue. “Go lower, take more than the head.”

She does as she's told, or attempts to. T'Challa has to repeat a few times and her mouth thrusts get very sloppy. She stops a few times out of breath and gives him irritated looks. N'Jadaka doesn't chime in, only holding his cock when she lets go.  
T'Challa gives her a few other instructions that she applies for a few seconds and then reverts back to her own way. After a move of the tongue that must be very irritatingly teasing T'Challa sighs in exasperation.

"That won't work." T'Challa tells her.

"My King." she looks at N'Jadaka with imploring eyes, he doesn't respond.

T'Challa doesn’t mean to at first, his mind on mediocre blowjobs and the annoying husbands who allows them. But he doesn’t... think much of crawling closer to where the woman was kneeling, careful of the restraint binding him to N’Jadaka. Doesn’t think much of nudging her away gently, doesn't even glance up at N'Jadaka before he takes his cock into his mouth. Not until his mouth waters at the stretch and someone in their large audience...whistles.

N’Jadaka groans. Low and strong. The hand not currently restrained pushing T’Challa’s head even lower. He tries his best to not get distracted by the others around them; letting N'Jadaka's hand guide his head. He reaches the base of his cock, the stretch is familiar.

N'Jadaka's cock is already so wet from someone else's saliva. He pushes that thought at the back of his mind and pulls his mouth out, then puts it back in, his lips tightly shut around the girth of his husband's cock.

Using his left hand is awkward but he manages, demonstrating the proper technique. N’Jadaka wasn’t as long as he was, but his width bordered monstrous. Which was probably why the young woman struggled. T’Challa doesn’t. Giving attention to the head then reaching even lower. He doesn’t tease, his grip is tight and he allows N’Jadaka to rock gently into his mouth.

He shuts his eyes when the head hits the inside of his cheek. He doesn't want to moan - he wasn't a twenty years old initiate, and didn't want to give anything more to their audience- but having his husband's cock fully inside him, filling his mouth delighted him. He brings his tight grip to meet his mouth.

He hears people coming closer to them and N'Jadaka groans some more, placing his hand at the base of his neck.

T'Challa pauses, breathing heavily through his nose. He doesn't want to pull N'Jadaka's cock out of his mouth, his saliva drips down N'Jadaka's naked thighs. He resumes the strokes of his lips, meeting the base of N'Jadaka's cock, after he regains some air. He’s more aware of what he’s doing now. It’s not as unpleasant as he would have thought it would be. N’Jadaka’s hand grounds him, helps him block out everything else.

N'Jadaka's hips meeting his thrusts gets a little too much, he keeps the shape of his mouth fixed and concentrate on his breathing to not trigger his gag reflex. N'Jadaka's cock presses against his throat, sometimes too strongly. He angles it better and keeps the rhythm. He feels the salty taste of precum on his tongue.

N'Jadaka thrusts two more times in his mouth, which almost makes him gag, groaning loudly. Then he stops, pulling T'Challa's mouth away. He rests a thumb on T'Challa's lips, smiling contentedly, eyes clouded by desire.

“Don’t want to come in your mouth.” Then he pulls T’Challa up into a kiss.

T'Challa meets his mouth, not lingering on his husband's last comment, still buzzed and dizzy from the blowjob. His pants are now uncomfortably tight. He leans into N'Jadaka's body, who keeps him from falling entirely into his lap.

"Go to the side of my chair, rests your hands on the armrest." N'Jadaka whispers against his lips. T’Challa opens his eyes. Then tugs on the restraint. He didn’t like the way his husband’s hand was resting on his ass “Untie me”.

"Move where I told you and I will." N'Jadaka doesn't give him time to reply and kisses him again.

T’Challa moves, albeit reluctantly when the kiss ends. It’s a bit awkward negotiating with the rope restraint and the space between them. He rests his hands on the throne’s armrest then waits expectantly.

N'Jadaka rises from his seat following him, still tied to him. When N'Jadaka comes up behind him he pulls their bodies together. T'Challa groans internally, N'Jadaka wanted to fuck him. His exasperation mixes with anticipation for what his husband would do next. N'Jadaka undoes T'Challa's restraints as he promised.

-:- POV Switches incoming -:-:-

T'Challa doesn't move. N'Jadaka glances at the people watching them, some are paying close attention, some are feigning disinterest. He smiles at them and steps closer to T'Challa's back, stopping when his wet erection is pressed against his husband’s ass.

"Let me come inside you."

His hands find the opening of T'Challa's pants and he slides them down his hips and legs slowly.

++

T'Challa has the choice to step away, and end things as they were. Or remain still while N'Jadaka made good on his request. He waffles more than he should on his choice. Cognizant once more of their audience watching avidly.

He hadn’t expected the night to go this way, but his arousal hasn’t disappeared even with their audience. He finds that he wants what N’Jadaka wants. At least for the moment. Besides, his husband wouldn’t last too long, not with how aroused he seemed to be.

N’Jadaka takes his time stroking T’Challa’s cock before pulling his pants down far enough for him to step out of them. The surrounding noise gets a little louder and T’Challa gives their audience a reluctant smile, he wasn’t small. He also wasn’t fully hard yet.

N'Jadaka follows the path of the pants and lowers down to his knees. T'Challa doesn't like looking at other people while he's getting stroked by his husband - but he can't resist gauging the reaction to seeing their King on his knees, even if it was for him.

N'Jadaka taps his legs and he widens them. His mouth is soon on his ass. T'Challa hums at the feeling of his husband’s tongue on him. But he can't fully appreciate it. He turns his head away from the crowd, pretending they were alone. But with the various loud noises ever present, it's a lost battle. He reminds himself that this is for N'Jadaka's birthday.

A lubed finger soon follows the tongue.

Keeping his composure is harder than he expects. He's glad for the armrest because he leans more and more against it as the minutes pass. He can't Ignore the feeling of being watched and his brain seems hyper focused on the fact that he is allowing N'Jadaka to touch him like this in public. That he is enjoying it despite the audience.

++

Erik is focused on his tasks, but he takes all the joy from their audience and the energy they give him, encouraging him to go deeper, be more indecent. But he has to take his time, he can't make T'Challa too uncomfortable, too fast. He has to make him feel good first, but that's easy, he could make him orgasm blindfolded, his hand tied behind his back..which he did, many times.

When he inserts other fingers, he doesn't even have to tell T'Challa to widen his legs, he does it by himself willingly, like a well trained puppy. He rewards it by biting lightly on his ass cheek.

++

N'Jadaka takes his time. It’s the best and worst thing at a time like this. Often when they fuck, especially after so many times, they rush prep. But tonight, N'Jadaka has time and T'Challa's legs shake from such focused ardor.

++

When his job is well done and T'Challa is ready to take him, making noises and arching his back to get more contact with N'Jadaka's fingers, he releases his grip and moves up, taking his time, his fingers brushing against T'Challa's skin, all along his legs, his side, up to his arms. He stands behind him without moving, only letting him know with a pressure of his dick against his ass.

++

He goes still and N'Jadaka waits. His eyes are open, and he can't help but scan the room and its audience. His face already hot grows hotter. He had only planned to... Bast. It was always a slippery slope. N'Jadaka didn't even have to work hard to get him there. He wishes N'Jadaka would just get it over with, make them both feel good. But he knows his husband wont. Not without explicit permission.

N'Jadaka's hands travel down his chest. T’Challa lets them move down to his stomach and his fully erect cock. He holds it and apply pressure, just enough to make it feel good. Then he moves his hand up and down, slowly. Each stroke going further up to the head of his cock.

Anyone watching them would think perhaps, the King enjoyed long foreplay. They probably wouldn't guess the King was subtly trying to convince his husband to let him fuck him in public. The thought is reassuring. "N'Jadaka?" His tone is conversational, despite the hand stroking him. N'Jadaka give him a long kiss on the crook of his neck, lips lingering, then he trails them to his ear, making him shiver : "Yes?"

The room is suddenly quieter. "Are you going to fuck me tonight?" They're past the point where he could walk away, at least without a lot of frustration. He wants what N'Jadaka has been teasing him with the entire night.

N'Jadaka nibbles at his ear, it's nearly painful. Pressed against his back, tightening his grip on his cock. "Yes." T'Challa presses back finally, encouraging N'Jadaka. He had been resisting the impulse since then.

++

Erik grins and bites T'Challa's neck in response. He pushes him down on the armrest of the chair and positions himself. He pushes slowly inside, feeling the tightness of T'Challa's hole closing around his dick. He lets him time to adjust, then pushes further in, gripping T'Challa's thighs once he's all the way in.

++

T'Challa had asked for it, but the speed in which N'Jadaka gets down to business is very expedient. There's no pain, just momentary discomfort and then the feeling of fullness. N'Jadaka takes his time, as if this was their first time or T'Challa needed special handling. He's surprisingly quiet even if the hands on T'Challa's thighs tell him just how much he was restraining himself. They had an audience after all.

++

Being inside his husband in front of all these people is exhilarating, he had wanted this for so long and now he has it. If he didn't control his pace as much he would've come right then from the excitement. But he has to make it last. For the people watching, for himself, for T'Challa.

His thrusts are slow, painfully slow even for him. His grip on T'Challa's thigh and shoulder grows stronger, pushing T'Challa into an arched position that he knew would be uncomfortable, but the sound from their audience keeps him going. He repositions himself, moving T'Challa’s body at an angle so their audience has a better view of where their bodies meet.

++

N'Jadaka was putting on a show. The pace he picks is tortuously slow, the hand on his thigh and shoulder presses him into an arch. But he doesn't stop there, no. He pulls T'Challa into a much less comfortable angle. At each successive change there is some sort of... reaction from their audience. It's all he can do -- to listen, and not pull away. He had agreed to this. At least the new position feels good, even with the slow rhythm.

++

Erik pushes all the way in, then slowly pulls back, making sure to always rub against T'Challa's prostate. The new position shows his slow movements in and out, and the way T'Challa takes it every time. He makes sure to never pull completely out of him-- at least tries to, he sometimes goes too far and the head slides out with the sound of precum and lube. Those times he pushes back in a little too insistently -- that usually elicits some sound out of T'Challa.

++

N'Jadaka had used lube, T'Challa remembers. But now each thrust feels a little too tight. He can't relax the way he might have if they were alone. The position isn't comfortable either. He's not usually loud in bed, a fact that N'Jadaka is always testing. Like now. The head of N'Jadaka's cock slips out and when he presses it back in, there's strength behind the thrust. It makes T'Challa whine. He's getting used to the nice slow press, anything faster and it becomes uncomfortable. Except the sound he makes only seems to spur N'Jadaka on more. His next push/pull uses similar strength, eliciting another audible response.

When the rhythm gets too much, T'Challa pulls away. N'Jadaka stops him from pulling away a second time, lifting his his ass even higher. T'Challa protests. It only spurs him on. This time N'Jadaka pushes T'Challa's back so he would be bending over the armrest. His hand instinctively rests on the chair's back to prevent himself from going further down on the chair. The moment T'Challa's hand rest on the chair, the rhythm amps up. The sound of fucking is now unmistakable, everyone else around them seems quiet. Even N'Jadaka started to groan now, his breath shortening. Some of the audience has moved closer.

The blood that hasn't already rushed to his cock goes up to his face. He's more comfortable now leaning as he is on the chair, but their... activity is more exposed and most people in the room were watching them. Including his sister most likely. The reminder and the lewd sounds saps some of his arousal, but a darker obscene feeling keeps him from stopping any of it.

He's oh so helpfully reminded that if he came, N’Jadaka wouldn't be far off and then this lurid act would end. So he pushes back instead of away from N'Jadaka, rocks into the next few thrust and is rewarded with another low groan and something that sounds like a whistle from their audience.

++

Erik slows down again, he doesn't want to come just yet. But it’s getting difficult. Even more so with T'Challa's body responding to his movements now, thrusting back against him. The friction, the warm tightness...he slaps T'Challa's ass to distract T'Challa and himself -- and to give a little more spectacle. On his next thrust he slows it down, pulling out to press just as slowly back inside. He knows this teasing will irritate T'Challa, who would be feeling over sensitive soon. He grins a bit sadistically in anticipation. T'Challa knew how to make it stop.

++

N’Jadaka is playing with him. The slaps on his ass don't sting as much as his pride. This was not going to be a quick fuck. N’Jadaka wanted a show. He would not be rushed.

N'Jadaka pushes his hand up in T'Challa's hair, massaging his scalp before pulling him backwards by his hair; his thrusts don't speed up, interminably slow and deep. The deepness is now uncomfortable and the momentum of the thrusts presses T'Challa's erection against the wooden side of the chair.

Someone gasps not far from where they're fucking and T'Challa's face burns. He's not ashamed of sex with his husband, but he really really hadn't signed up for such a display. He's flexible enough that new position isn't unbearable but it chafes him, irritating his sensibilities which only makes him less relaxed and much tighter.

++

Fuck, the tightness of T'Challa's hole gives him shivers of pleasure. His pace quickens unconsciously and he realizes he is groaning; he needs to do something before he comes. It takes all his willpower to pull out. T'Challa whines, frustrated when he does. He keeps his hands tightly around T'Challa's waist and neck. Waits a few seconds then yanks him off of the chair without any reverence. Pulling on his neck to make him follow.

He guides T'Challa to the floor, his hand pinching T'Challa's neck just enough to make T'Challa feel his control and let himself be guided. The people trouped around them give them space. He applies a little pressure on T'Challa's neck, tells him: "Get down, on your knees."

++

T'Challa obeys. Once he is on his knees, N'Jadaka presses his head down, so his chest is soon level with the mat. He had been sure N'Jadaka would come soon, now he isn't so sure. At least with this new position he could see less of his surroundings. Better for his enjoyment. This time when N'Jadaka presses inside him there's no resistance, the push assisted by gravity and their previous fucking. T'Challa reaches for his own erection. If N'Jadaka wasn't going to come, it didn't mean T'Challa couldn't.

++

Erik falls deep inside T'Challa a bit too fast. He has to concentrate to keep his cool, to not moan. T'Challa's hole tightens reflexively around Erik's dick and his unsteady legs make him lean against T'Challa's ass. He regains control quickly and brings T'Challa's ass further up with a hand; getting his bearing to slide out, then back in. The angle is perfect, he can get deep inside him, balls touching T'Challa's ass, with ease. Thrust down fast and touch T'Challa's prostate at every push.

He doesn't waste more time before his pace gets faster, and the momentum pushes T'Challa's body across the mat. T'Challa has to lay a hand next to his face to not slide across it. One hand on his dick, Erik sees it and push the hand away. "Not yet."

++  
T'Challa doesn't think he can come without being touched. N'Jadaka might make him try tonight. All he can do is take it right now.

++

T'Challa obeys quite easily and rests his other hand besides him. Erik would like to touch him, but he knows he's close enough that if he strokes him, T'Challa would come within minutes. The show isn't over yet. More people are gathering around them, some of the ones who had been sitting at the tables moving closer; he doesn’t know if Shuri is among them, but he can't give them much thought. More focused on not coming and giving the exact right rhythm and angle. He rolls his hips when he hits T'Challa's prostate, making him moan after a few seconds, that was a win, but he wants him to get louder.

His thrusts are harsh and merciless, then soft and slow when he feels himself getting too close, taking back the rhythm after he calmed himself. This feels like teasing even for him, but the glory of his end goal keeps him focused.

T'Challa's ass is gloriously spread, popped up. When the movements of their bodies smacking against each other weren't too erratic, he grabs them with enthusiasm, and caresses them.

++

Eventually it occurs to T'Challa that there might be a purpose to N'Jadaka's fucking. Beyond making him lose his mind. Or maybe that was the point? T'Challa is frustrated enough, that he doesn't care to stifle the sounds their fucking elicits from him. He just wants to come. He's reached the point of being too sensitive, never mind the pain from too hard thrusts when N'Jadaka uses too much force. The frustration and discomfort mix with the pleasure from the act itself. Being watched, the sound of conversation and other people fucking around them.

++

Erik won't be able to last that much longer if he keeps going at this rhythm, the encouraging sounds of the crowd mixed in with T'Challa's own sounds is making it hard to keep his cool and control. T'Challa had suffered enough --he thinks with amusement, he was now so limp, letting himself go completely.

Erik pulls out of T'Challa with a noise. He breathes deeply two times and nudges T'Challa's ass. "get on your back."

++

T'Challa isn't expecting N'Jadaka to pull out. Not when they were both so close to coming. He turns over grudgingly. N’Jadaka rewards his obedience by pushing back inside him. He's also added more lubricant.

++

He takes more care this time, knowing what would make T'Challa come, he even gives himself the treat of touching T'Challa's dick, pushing up T'Challa's legs for a deeper penetration.

++

N'Jadaka finally touches his own cock and T'Challa moans from relief. It wouldn't take much now. It’s a bit too much. Too deep, too much stimulation, if he didn't want to come so badly he would have pulled away by now. Made himself come. But he doesn't. Submitting to his husband’s whims.

++

Erik would love to keep stroking his husband, make him come himself, but he needs both hands for his equilibrium. He give T'Challa permission to touch himself. He almost lifts T'Challa's ass off the ground with his new grip, he had finally let go and can feel his orgasm building, he doesn't slows himself down and welcomes it.

++

T'Challa doesn't need to be told twice. He doesn't even protest the shift in position, focus on his cock, and finally, finally coming. He spares little thought to their audience, if he does it’s mostly titillating. The feeling of being watched. It feels almost normal.

++

The crowd is getting dangerously close, some sitting down, some approaching further, touching themselves or just watching. He would tell them to fuck off further if he wasn't so proud. T'Challa's hand on his own dick is stroking faster and he is moaning louder that he had ever heard him before. He realizes he's moaning too and stops himself, moving T'Challa's legs just slightly to angle his head even more against T'Challa's prostate.

A few more pushes forward and he'd come, fuck, he can feel the size of his orgasm. He holds T'Challa's legs tighter, he can sense his legs will fall from under him once he comes.  
  
++

N'Jadaka stalls a bit, the head of his cock pressing for long seconds on the battered nerves of T'Challa's prostate. It’s enough to tip T'Challa over the edge. When he comes his whole body shudders and he doesn't care to stifle himself at all.

++

They come mere seconds after the other, for an unplanned fuck, this is amazing. It makes his pleasure lasts even longer, he only lets out a low groan but his grip on T'Challa and his trembling legs --the trembling moving to his whole body --shows his husband how strong his orgasm is. He's almost dizzy, this is--the best birthday gift he had ever had.

++

His husband is still hard inside him after they both come. It feels nice. As long as N'Jadaka remains still. Which he doesn't. His husband waves an attendant over. N'Jadaka tells the attendant to clear out the venue. T'Challa is too wrung out to think too much about why. He would have expected this sort of party to carry on well into the AM. But it seems N'Jadaka is done for the night.

++

Erik stays inside T'Challa with no intention of pulling out. He can feel T'Challa's ass reflexively shut around his still hard dick; it would feel good if he hadn't just come. Now it's a bit too much stimulation, but this is only the aftermath of their orgasm and T'Challa's own oversensitivity, they would settle in a warm fit.

After he instructs the attendant, he falls down on T'Challa's stomach; worn out and still in post orgasm bliss. He feels T'Challa's cum against his stomach, which makes him even happier. He raises his head, looking at T'Challa's face without saying anything.

++

T'Challa tries to stretch around N'Jadaka. They both need a shower. But he feels good. Light. Warm. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He was still hard inside T'Challa. Not full mast but not soft either. If he wasn't used to his husband's oddness he would think the man had taken some sort of stimulant.

++

Erik hums and kisses T'Challa's neck, resting his head on his chest. "Yeah." The people around them are putting their clothes on, not paying attention to them anymore -- too slowly he thinks, but they would be on their way. With all the pleasure he got from exhibitionism he couldn't wait to be alone with his husband. He felt cozy like this, even with their sweat. Everything is peaceful, , following the rhythm of T'Challa's breathing, his hair brushing against his husband's beard; his dick comfortably tucked inside his husband’s ass. This was the life.

++

The lull in activity makes him realize how tired he is. His eyes slide shut and his mind wanders, waiting until N'Jadaka felt like pulling out. He used to joke if N'Jadaka could he would crawl inside him and never come out. Back when he hadn't known how to handle the odd possessiveness. Now it was just another facet of their life together.

++

Once the last guests were on their way out of the tent, Erik lifts himself up on his elbows and kisses T'Challa again. A long, closed lips kiss, eyes closed.

"Thank you for this birthday gift."

++

"If I didn't know better I would think you planned this." All T'Challa had promised in the beginning was his presence. What had happened after was—unplanned. But not regretted.

"I plead innocence." N’Jadaka sounds faux offended, but he couldn't hide his smile.

  
++  
If Erik was truthful, he did want to have sex with T'Challa, but he had expected actual resistance, this had turned out to be --way better than he expected. Sex lasting for so long, in front of so many people, and T'Challa didn't seem angry at all. Maybe because he was still in the post orgasm bliss. Erik feels blessed.

  
++  
"Mmmhmm." T'Challa had enjoyed the experience even if it was not one he would have chosen for himself. "You should thank that young woman the next time you see her. If not for her lackluster—skills, I may not have gone along so easily."

++

He wasn't wrong, without her, T'Challa wouldn't have wanted to, ‘do it properly’ and one thing leading to another-- "You're right, I should." he lets the end of the sentence sound seductive, this was a good time to tease T'Challa. "I'm sure she learned a lot from watching you."

++

T'Challa snorts, restraining his laughter. Moving hurt. As long as they were both mostly still his insides wouldn't feel too raw.

"Someone learned something tonight, I'm sure." He is ready to stand, locate his clothes—head straight for a lovely hot bath.

"I still haven't given you your gift for tonight." N’Jadaka says, looking at T'Challa with incredible fondness.

"It is not my birthday." T'Challa is curious at the mention of a 'gift.'

"It's not, it's my birthday. And the King wants to say thank you to his lovely husband for today."

He looks around. "Now that it’s only us." Then he moves a little, pressing his half hard dick back deeper inside T'Challa, the movements still feel good.

"You know, the kink you like so much, we haven't done it in awhile, and my bladder is quite full."

T’Challa is confused until N'Jadaka says the words 'bladder.' And then he's the one looking outwards to their surroundings and for any lingering guests. This would be a gift. A fetish that was T'Challa's alone and one N'Jadaka didn't often indulge. But they were indeed alone or soon to be, and if his husband is so inclined—T'Challa's expression had gone perfectly blank when he understood the insinuation and offer. Now he allows himself a small smile.

"If you like." It wasn't something he had ever turned down. Not when he was usually the one to request it.

++

" I would love to." Erik kisses T'Challa again, and slides his lips to his beard, kissing that too. He positions himself, getting on his knees, lifting T'Challa's ass in the process, widening the space between his legs. He usual isn't that interested in this particular kink, but right now, with both of them on the mat, pressed against each other, alone in this big tent, it felt like just what they needed to close the night.

++

T'Challa steadies himself with a hand. N'Jadaka is carrying most of his weight. The new position is a bit awkward but works well with gravity, which would reduce the mess. There is a long interminable moment between when T'Challa steadies himself and when he feels the first trickle. The act itself is technically as debasing as what they had just done for an audience. But this feels, personal. A private affair. The warm feeling grows and N'Jadaka groans above him. Apparently he'd really needed to relieve himself.

++

The releases is so good, even pleasurable, he had felt the need to relieve himself since had come inside T'Challa, and it had started to be uncomfortable. But now they were alone, he could let himself go. And T'Challa's gaze--, he repositions a bit, not letting a drop out, it's -- it's not arousing, but he feels privileged, that T'Challa can trust him with such an usual kink, that he can feel at ease enough to show him his pleasure in it. He exhales, his dick feels warmer now from the pee, and being, inside T'Challa.

++

The flow of pressure reduces gradually and the feeling of being full increases with it. The sensation is something he's never been able to replicate, even with enemas that had the same effect, more or less. At some point some of the urine begins to run down his back, overfull. The smell adds an extra layer of illicitness to the act. There was no denying what was happening, and unless he soaked very well, the smell could follow him for hours. His breathing is a little louder now. He is too overwhelmed to get hard again so soon, but he is undoubtable aroused. What a lovely way to end the day.

++

When he feels the liquid drip down T'Challa's legs and his own - probably mixed with his own cum - he falls back down on T'Challa's stomach. He doesn't want to deal with the mess. The smell was going to cling to him he knows, he almost wants to get up right now and get a shower, but he only closes his eyes, waiting for his dick to be fully soft again and slides out of T'Challa's ass with a little pull. The attendants will deal with the drenched mat. Holding T'Challa still feels good, but they would need to get up eventually, maybe finish this off in the shower - and then in bed.

++

The moment fades and T'Challa pushes himself up. Head tilted back body loose and adjusting to being upright once more. They've made a mess on the floor, the smell isn't easy to ignore either. T'Challa is slow to stand conscious of the liquid now running down his leg. The brief rush before he was empty again. And in need of some sort of covering. They would not be walking back to their quarters but he did not want to be naked in the transport.

"Thank you." N'Jadaka looks as assured as ever. Sharing none of T'Challa's own weariness. He would probably want to go again tonight. Once they were home.

N’Jadaka embraces T'Challa and kisses him. He runs his hand on T'Challa's side and back, making sure to stay on the dry places. He takes T'Challa's head in his hand and places another kiss "There's towels on the stands near the table, go dry yourself and get dressed." He was going to do the same, a bit of relaxing before the end of the day. And the cleaning attendants would soon arrive.

T'Challa nods, walking in the direction of the stands. A wild and maybe childish part of him doesn't want to towel himself off. The smell isn't attractive yes, but it is not something he minds. Even if N'Jadaka did. There's a public restroom station set up next to the stands. If he wanted to he could use soapy water to make himself more acceptable. He doesn't. N'Jadaka hadn't told him he had to bathe. He wouldn't till he had to. There's not much to dry now, the time in between them coming and their last final act ensuring a decent bit of come had already dried. The urine is not very soluble either; congealing and sticky on his skin. He dries his body as best as he can then goes in search of his clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> water sports.
> 
> > > hope you enjoyed reading this was fun to rp. Especially that ending (talked through that months b4 we actually wrote it)


End file.
